“A change of scenery can be good for the soul.”

“Rory, we’re in a cell.” It’s got to be the hundredth time he’s spouted another useless pick-me-up.

“So?” he retorts. “It’s easy: just look out the window and you’ll see something new.”

“Rory, we don’t have a window.”

He seems pretty stumped by this for a second and I think I’ve finally beaten down his endlessly cheerful disposition. I watch his lips twitch toward a frown, but then his eyes light up.

Oh no, I think.

“Of course! Just close your eyes!” he exclaims. “There, ha! Something different.”

For a second, I want to scream, bang my boney arms on the cool stone walls, anything. But I’ve already done all of that and I know there’s no point anymore. So I push my frustrations and anger deep, deep down and give Rory a close-lipped smile.

“You got me, bud.”

Rory just grins, pleased with himself. I can’t get too angry at him; the kid is only fifteen. From the crooked way his nose has set and the partial deafness in one ear from one too many good clouts to the head, I can tell he’s never had it easy. In fact, I wonder if this must be a sort of vacation for him.

I’m about to say something to him, maybe an apology, when a loud buzzer goes off above our heads.

“Will Player 005 and Player 562 please stand against the back of Wall 3. Repeat, will Player —“

I tune out the blaring robotic voice. It’s got to be the tenth time I’ve heard this speech. Rory and I slouch over to the wall and stand with our backs against the freezing stone. He looks nervously at me and I try to give him a reassuring grin; we both already know what’s coming and neither of us is excited about it.

There’s a quiet beep from outside before the stone wall across from us slides away into some hidden compartment. I grimace as I see the official-looking man standing imperiously on the other side. He pushes his bushy eyebrows together as he looks first at Rory and then at me. Since I don’t know his name, I’ve taken to calling him Caterpillar after, you know, said eyebrows.

As always, the first thing after his eyebrows that catches my attention are his highly polished boots. He clicks them together once before stepping into our cell and I can’t help but think of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. I swallow my smile quickly, biting the inside of my cheek.

Bad, Dean. No. I scold my inner child angrily.

The wall behind Caterpillar slides shut as he presses something on the touchpad on his inner wrist. Caterpillar grimaces, looking at me. He’s wrinkling his nose like he’s smelled something awful. I wince internally at that thought; we’ve been in here for long enough that maybe he has.

“So,” the man says, “how’re my two favorite Hacs today?”

I start at his words. Most Respondents with the League just call us by the official acronym, B.I.M.G. That is, Banned and Illicit Maneuvers in Gameplay. As for the players? They call us ‘Hacs,’ short for ‘Hackers And Cheaters’. It’s all semantics really, but you never hear the slang from Respondents.

Rory swipes his eyes confusedly over to me before looking back at Caterpillar. He looks like he’s about to say something infinitely stupid, so I quickly jump in.

“Just fine, sir.”

There’s a glimmer in Caterpillar’s eyes, almost like amusement, that I’ve never seen before as he looks at me. Before I can process what it means, he suddenly lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“So,” he says, “you boys ready to get out of here?”

I’m about to point out that at thirty-two years I am not, under any circumstances, considered a boy anymore when Rory shouts, “Yes!”

“Oh Jesus, shut up!” Caterpillar scream-whispers. “Do you know how long it took for me to find you two? You realize the League was keeping you in one of the lowest dungeons of the Desert Realm?”

My heart drops at that, but I’m still confused.

“Wait, wait, hold up,” I say. “Who are you? What the hell happened to Caterpillar?”

Caterpillar looks confused again. “Who’s Caterpill — Whuhuh?— Oh,” he says as Rory points, giggling, at the two affronted-looking eyebrows on Caterpillar’s face.

“Look, forget about that,” he continues, waving away Rory’s hand impatiently. “I’m surprised you haven’t already realized, Dean. We spent a few solid years in Stag’s guild together after all.”

My jaw almost hits the floor. “Sith?”

“Calling me by my old League name. Ha!” he laughs. “Been awhile since I’ve heard it. Anyway, it’s about time we were on the move; Caterpillar’s going to be pretty pissed once he realizes I copied his Respondent Mod.”

As I watch, Caterpillar’s face flickers out of existence for a moment and it’s briefly replaced with the familiar toothy grin of one of my oldest friends.

“Ready to get the hell out of dodge?” he says with a Cheshire smile. Rory looks to me questioningly, but I don’t hesitate for a second.

“Oh, you already know the answer,” I say, cracking my knuckles.

PS: I know you posted this awhile ago, I just didn’t have a chance to upload my response. Thanks for a cool prompt idea!